Scrabble My Heart
by alivingfantasy
Summary: "She looked down at the letters arranged in the wooden tray at her elbow: ILOVEYOU." Oneshot. Spencer/Toby after 2x12.


-:-

Scrabble My Heart

-:-

A Pretty Little Liars Fanfic

-:-

Summary: "She glanced down at the Scrabble letters arranged in the wooden tray at her elbow: ILOVEYOU."

-:-

Genre: Romance/Drama

-:-

Word Count: 3,090

-:-

**-:-scrabble my heart-:-**

Spencer Hastings was a girl who knew her mind. Or, at least, she always _thought _she did. Quite honestly, it hurt to think. Hell, it hurt doing anything anymore. Ever since her breakup with _him_ (she couldn't bear to even think his name), her days were empty and bleak and _meaningless_. Without calling herself _his girl, _there was always this throbbing, dull, muted pain, that, even after two months, was still there. She cried herself to sleep each night, anguishing sobs that racked her slender body, soaking the pillow, red puffy eyes the next day and pale waxy cheeks with silvery tearstains left behind, as she thought of what they might've had, had it not been for A being the monster that they were. The thing about Spencer was that she was stubborn and would not accept the fact that she and Toby were done for good, yet she didn't sit there, debating calling him, because she was Spencer Hastings. And when she lost something, she didn't try to get it back. She pretended she'd never wanted it in the first place. She'd made mistakes. They all had. But the biggest one was not saying anything that terrible night, when she'd so much wanted to, it was killing her. She remembered reading a quote once: "The only words worse than the ones used to hurt someone are the words left unsaid." She'd done worse than she'd ever thought, and she was paying dearly.

It occurred to her that she'd never said 'I love you' to him. Sure, that day at the truck, it had been _implied_, but she'd never truly said how she felt about him, in those words. She loved him irrevocably, boundlessly, and not even A could take that away.

She might not have him, but he was safe. That was her consolation.

"Spencer! Come down here! We're playing Scrabble!" she heard Melissa's perky, pregnant-glow_y _voice call up the stairs. Spencer felt tears prickle at her once-sparkling, now dull, amber eyes, as she thought of hotel room 214 and 'goofball' trumping 'glyceraldhyde' and the sweet, perfect kiss…

"Spencer! Come _on_!" Melissa, upon returning to Rosewood, had forgiven Spencer for having Ian's phone, and in her weird, bright, pregnant glow had decided to let "bygones be bygones. We're all adults here, aren't we?" before going on, gushing over cherry wood cribs and Dior calfskin blankets and pink painted rooms and little bundles of joy. It was, to her now world-weary sister, annoyingly ridiculous. The kid was going to have a savagely untraditional upbringing.

"SPENCER!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." Spencer rolled her eyes and headed downstairs, doing her best to banish thoughts of Toby from her mind.

Toby Cavanaugh had never understood the meaning of the word 'heartbreak'. Honestly, he hadn't even known it truly _existed,_ until that day that Spencer had left him with that stumbling resignation, had basically said, _screw you for ever thinking I loved you. Sorry, but I don't and never did._ It hurt, both physically and emotionally, and he hadn't slept in weeks, staying up, replaying every moment, wondering what he'd done wrong. Because he didn't blame her. He could never blame her; he loved her, and always would. Toby hadn't expected the breakup. He thought they were in love, that things between them were going well. It wasn't like those you-knew-it-would-happen breakups, where there's a lot of fighting and yelling and you try and try and try until it all falls apart. It wasn't a long time coming. It just happened, _poof, _just like that. He thought about what he'd said at the police station, how she hadn't responded. Was he really that worthless to her?

But Spencer…she was the love of his life, the _single best thing_ that had ever happened to him. He dreamed about her, her sparkling amber eyes, her bell-like laugh, her dazzling smile…

He sighed, running his calloused fingers over the well-worn cover of the French version of Salinger's _The Catcher in the Rye_, the first thing she ever gave to him. The first time they truly connected, on his porch, conjugating verbs.

"Thinking about me?"

He spun around, dropping the book, to see Jenna standing against the doorjamb, Gucci sunglasses obscuring her eyes, wearing an infuriating smirk.

"You are the single lowest creature on this planet," he growled, enraged. He leapt up, standing so their faces were inches away.

"Even lower than _her_?" he didn't have to ask to know who she was talking about. "Because I'd think you'd agree she's the lowest," Jenna continued in a singsong tone that made him see red.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about Spencer like that!"

He was surprised by the outburst that escaped him, but Jenna had no right to antagonize Spencer. None, whatsoever.

"Oh." Jenna said, her bottom lip twitching. "_That's _how it is. You're still in love with her."

"What difference does it make to you if I am?"

Jenna crossed the room and perched on the edge of his unmade bed. "I don't want to see you get hurt again," she breathed.

"Well, nothing you or anyone elsedoes will help."

"Toby…" Jenna sighed his name. "I knew you shouldn't have gotten involved with Spencer Hastings. I knew she was using you to her advantage. It's what she's always done. You can't be friends with Alison and not come out _exactly _like her, after all."

"You don't know Spencer," he hissed venomously. "I do, and I know she'd never do that."

Jenna sighed. "Love is _blind,_" she surmised, the corners of her mouth curling in irony.

"Jenna…what do you want?" he snapped, starting to get frustrated with his petite, raven-haired stepsister.

"Mother and Dad want you to come down. They're playing Scrabble. They know how much you love it."

Toby couldn't. He just couldn't. Playing Scrabble—even thinking about it—would bring back all those memories of Spencer he had tried to erase, but knew he never could.

"Toby, come down here!" he heard his father call.

He sighed and followed Jenna out the door.

"Spencer, it's your turn."

Spencer looked down at the Scrabble board that she and Melissa were positioned at opposite sides of, hearing Toby's voice in her head:

"_It wasn't…a complete wash. To be honest, it was kind of fun to kick your butt in Scrabble."_

She felt tears immediately fill her eyes. _Toby, I'm so sorry. I love you. I always have._

"Spencer, _any_ time this century," Melissa said with an exasperated sigh. She tucked a long brown curl back into her tortoiseshell headband.

"Huh?" Spencer looked up.

"It's. Your. Turn." Melissa said, slowly enunciating each syllable. "God, Spence, what's with you?"

"Sorry," Spencer murmured. "Guess I'm just…distracted." She glanced down at the Scrabble letters arranged in the wooden tray at her elbow: ILOVEYOU.

"_Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to pay you back?"_

"_Well, you have a job to get to tomorrow. In Yardley, right?"_

"_I love you so much."_

"_I wanted to say that first."_

Suddenly, her mind whirled and spun with a wave of emotions and memories and worries. She couldn't breathe, her head spun and her stomach heaved and her heart thudded and she knew—she just _knew—_that he was the only one who could fix it; fix her. Without him, she had nothing. She was just robotically perfect, overachieving Spencer Jill Hastings, void of any heart, stripped of any _Spence._

_I love you. I love you. Iloveyou, iloveyou, iloveyou…_

She leapt to her feet, shaking in her spike-heeled boots.

"Spencer?" Melissa's brow knit in confusion. "What're you-"

"I need some air," she gasped.

Then she ran out the door, ignoring Melissa's alarmed protests, tears streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her feet pounded a pulsing beat against the pavement, the Scrabble letters still clutched in her palm, her long, chocolate-brown curls streaming out behind her. She had to see him. She needed him; she realized that now.

As the Cavanaughs' house came into view, she sped up. Toby was _so close_. Then, she skidded to a stop, scuffing the toe of her boot. She hardly noticed. What if Toby didn't want to see her? What if he didn't feel the same way about her; never had? What if he hated her? Not that she could blame him. She'd hurt him, in the cruelest possible way.

She took a deep breath, then slowly turned back around. Toby deserved so much better than her. He needed to be safe, and her selfishness was not going to get him hurt. She wouldn't let it.

She exhaled slowly and gave the Cavanaughs' house one last, lingering look.

_Toby, I love you. I'm sorry._

Toby parked his truck, and got out. He was standing on the hills overlooking Rosewood, where he usually came to think. But, more importantly, it was _their _place. His and Spencer's; or, at least, it had been.

Toby sighed and dropped down on the bench a few feet away from his truck, looking down at the lights lazily winking on as twilight fell over the picturesque town.

"_It's not so bad from up here. Just looks like a town."_

"_That's all it is."_

"_It's more than that. It's like one of those collective mind creatures, from the movies. One with a really long memory."_

"_It's not a monster."_

"_It's got monsters in it. You know that, and so do I."_

He sighed, wishing Spencer was there with him. Wishing he could just look up into her eyes and tell her how much he missed her; how important she was to him.

He heard a branch break under someone's foot, and saw a figure make their way toward him. It was a female, he realized, noting her slender frame, the long curls spilling over her shoulders, hunched with the chill.

Then he saw her eyes—_those glowing, wide amber orbs_—and felt his stomach drop about ten feet.

"S-Spencer?" He managed over the lump in his throat.

She jumped, then blinked at him. Slowly, her eyes widened.

"Toby." She exhaled his name in her musical voice, and he heard the undertone of exhaustion and defeat.

"What are you doing here?" his voice came out in a soft whisper.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Attempting to escape my head." She paused. "Why?" she asked, so quietly he had to strain to hear her. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" he replied quickly. "Here, sit." He gestured to the bench.

She sat down slowly, not meeting his gaze, as far away from him as possible. "You still come here to get away?"

"Yeah." he replied. "It's…peaceful here."

"Like a whole other world."

He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw that she had changed. A lot. Her eyes had turned duller, she looked slimmer than ever, and her cheeks, usually so rosy, were almost translucent. He hadn't seen her since the night of her arrest, though he'd called her twenty-seven times the next day. He hoped she was alright, wondered what the cops had done to her and her friends.

"I called you." He said finally, blankly. Maybe it was to break the silence, maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe he just wanted to hear her voice.

"I know," she whispered.

"You never called back."

"I assumed you didn't want me to."

_I did! _His mind screamed. _I missed you so much. I love you. Please, please, don't leave me again…_

"Spencer…" his voice trailed off. He had no idea what to say. He loved her, he wanted her back, but they had so much to talk about. "I…I missed you," he said finally, his voice breaking.

She looked at him in the eye for the first time, and the pain and fear were evident in her shimmering irises. "I missed you too."

They were both quiet for the longest time, each lost in their own thoughts. This time, she broke the silence.

"Did you mean what you said at the police station that night?" she asked, looking away from him. She fiddled with the strap on her bag, looking almost ashamed to have asked.

He felt his heart skip a beat. Because he did. Of course he meant it when he said he cared more about her than he did her secrets, when he said he loved her. And hearing her question it…it hurt him.

"Yes," he whispered. "Spencer, whatever I told you, I meant it. Completely."

She bit her bottom lip. "I…I'm sorry." She sounded so tiny, so vulnerable, that he just wanted to hold her, whisper to her that he was here and wouldn't let anything happen to her ever again. But she wasn't his anymore.

"For what, Spence?"

"For everything. For not talking to you when you came to the station. I…it meant a lot to me, Toby, and…" she paused and closed her eyes for a minute. "I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't. I know it doesn't make any sense—a lot of things don't—but that's the way it is."

"Spencer, I always told you that you could trust me with anything, and I thought you understood that. I thought we felt the same way about each other," he replied in a broken whisper that broke her heart to hear.

"I did! I _do_, it's not about that." Her voice rose with frustration, and he could see that she was trying to explain herself in a way that he could understand.

"Then what?"

"Toby…I know—my friends know—about stuff that's…crazy. Stuff that gets all of us into trouble. And I…couldn't let you get hurt because of me, okay? You aren't going to take the punishment for my actions, and you're going to stay safe."

"From what?" he asked, reaching for her hand. It was icy cold, but just touching her brought back that familiar spark.

"From _me_," she replied helplessly. "Toby…bad things have happened, and you deserve someone you can be with safely without worrying about getting hurt. Toby, what I said in the truck…wasn't me. I did trust you, I _do _trust you."

"Spencer, you're worth it. I always thought you were worth it." Because she was. To him, Spencer was worth anything. He'd do anything, give up anything, just to kiss her one last time.

"There's too much I can't tell you." She breathed.

He was quiet for a minute, still holding her hand. He ran his thumb over her palm and said, "I might not totally understand what's going on here, but when your parents told you to stay away from me when you were a person of interest, did you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't care what anyone else thought? Because you believed I was innocent even if no one else did. Because you understood me and treated me like a normal human being and not the biggest scandal this town had ever seen. You were all I had, but it didn't matter, because you were all I wanted, too."

He was quiet, digesting her response. Before he started talking to her, Spencer had always seemed like an enigma. The smart, untouchable beauty surrounded by her popular clique, nose always in one book or another. But when he really got to know her, he realized she could let people in, once she was comfortable with them. She could let loose and laugh, and she was an amazing listener, one of the most resourceful people he'd ever known. And then he understood that old adage, "Don't judge a book by its cover".

She looked up at him. Before she started tutoring him, she'd thought he was a creepy, cold-blooded killer. Thinking that was the biggest mistake she'd ever made, ever. And Spencer had made a lot of mistakes. Before she really got to know him, she thought he was your typical rebel without a cause, sketchy, and just not like her in any way, period. But he was honest, kind, protective, smart, and had a smile that made her breathless.

"Spencer?" his voice, tenderly saying her name, broke into her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"What I said at the police station…I still feel that way, you know."

She ran her fingers over his. "You don't care that I can't tell you things that go on?"

"No," he replied, his face mere inches away from hers. "Because I trust you. And I know you'll tell me, when you're ready."

She laughed lightly, a tear trickling down her pale cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. "We're so messed up, you know that, right?"

"Alone? Yeah. But together, we're not so bad."

Their faces were centimeters away now. Millimeters.

Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I love you," he whispered.

She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes. "I love you too."

He exhaled two months' worth of sighs, brushing a strand of her hair away from her heart-shaped face.

Then, finally, finally, their lips met.

The kiss was deep and slow, yet urgent and riveting, and in that one kiss they poured out all their feelings. Neither wanted the moment to end, but finally they pulled away, breathless and smiling.

"I'm so, so sorry," she said, as he held her close to him, vowing to never let her go again.

"Shhh." He kissed the top of her head. "It's okay, Spencer."

"I really do love you, Toby, and I'm sorry I didn't say it at the police station or with the truck. I just wanted it to be perfect, but you know nothing is ever perfect with us, and-"

"Spencer." He stopped her before she could get into one of her rants. "It's okay."

Spencer looked up into his eyes. "I have something to show you." She opened her hand, and he saw the most beautiful letters, inscribed on Scrabble tiles:

ILOVEYOU

"Spence…"

She cut him off with a kiss. "Never forget it, okay?"

"Never," he echoed, taking the hands of the girl he loved and holding them tightly in his.

And they both knew that no matter what happened next—with A or police or their parents or Jenna—they had each other, and always would.

_Fin._


End file.
